


With Company, Even Death Loses Its Sting (Not Really)

by APortableBanquet (peregrinefalcon)



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Assassin School, BAMF Chekov, Because Chekov is kind of a dick, Chekov is not a good flatmate, Gen, Genius Chekov, Genius Sulu, OOC Chekov, Sharing Clothes, Sulu is a little annoyed, Teamwork
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-05-31 23:56:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6492859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peregrinefalcon/pseuds/APortableBanquet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sulu and Chekov are assassins who happen to share the same apartment. Or rather, Chekov is quartered there by Mr. Spock, whilst his own safehouse is being constructed. Chekov is a spectacularly bad flatmate, but somehow Sulu manages to stay sane. Together, they take on missions as an assassination/recon/spy duo, go plant shopping, and inadvertently discover secrets about the espionage and assassination world that they definitely should not have discovered. Whoops. Sulu blames Chekov.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Company, Even Death Loses Its Sting (Not Really)

**Author's Note:**

> На миру и смерть красна. (Na míru i smert' krasná.)
> 
> "In the world, even death is beautiful."  
> Or  
> With company, even death loses its sting.

“Pavel, did you eat all the cheese again??” An exasperated voice trailed in from the kitchen, bouncing off the bare walls of the apartment. Chekov rolled his eyes and slid off his swivel chair. “Yes, I did! Zo vhat?” Sulu’s angry voice, despite being several rooms away, managed to hit Chekov like a raging bull. “You can’t just _eat all the cheese_! That's _my_ cheese!” “Zo vhat!” Sulu let out a sigh. “Well at least get out of your room and _take a shower_ before eating _all_ my food!” “ _Fine_ , I’ll do it!”

 

Chekov went into Sulu’s room, stole some of his clothes, and skipped to the bathroom, his messy curls bouncing mischievously on his head. Although he was loath to peel his week-old t-shirt and boxers off himself, he couldn’t stay in his room forever. He had a job tonight. Chekov considered maybe buying some donuts for Sulu as an apology, but then decided against it. Maybe getting a motorcycle would be a better idea. It sounded like more fun.

 

Humming cheerfully, Chekov dumped his old clothes into the hamper and turned the shower water on hot. The Russian boy enjoyed himself thoroughly as he shamelessly used (a lot) of his flatmate’s shampoo (instead of his own) and purposefully showered until all the hot water ran out. Covered with shampoo foam, Chekov’s unruly hair resembled a white afro, until it finally yielded and plastered onto his scalp in straight locks after being rinsed under the showerhead.

 

As he was enjoying his shower and abusing Sulu’s water bills, Chekov inspected himself to see if he was fit for the new job. After a week of hot Cheetos and Netflix binge watching (on Sulu’s account, of course), he had not avoided gaining a little bit of flab on his stomach. Well, it was really just a little bit. Luckily, this job didn’t require too much physical exertion; he’s good to go.

 

It was about time. The water had become rather cold. The coldness gave a refreshing start to his morning … or was it noon already? Didn’t matter. Chekov stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel, his own this time. No matter what, Chekov firmly believed that his towel was indeed fluffier than Sulu’s. Besides, using Sulu’s towel wouldn’t be funny. It’d just be gross.

 

A yell permeated the thick wooden door of the bathroom. “Pavel Andreievich Chekov, it’s about time you got out of there! I have to shower too!” “Yes, yes, Hikaru, I _vill_.” Chekov ruffled the last droplets of water out of his damp hair and pulled on Sulu’s sweatshirt. He unlocked the door and ran from the soft humid atmosphere of the bathroom into the crisp air of the harsh world outside.

 

Okay, maybe it wasn’t that dramatic.

 

But Sulu’s reaction was indeed dramatic. He let out a loud frown that sounded like a cross between constipation and exhaustion. “Pavel, why are you wearing _my_ clothes _again_? They barely fit you!” It was true. The sweatshirt hung on Chekov’s slim, lean frame like a smock, its sleeves down to his fingertips, and the jeans hung dangerously around his hips, two sizes too big. Chekov stuck his tongue out at Sulu and began scavenging the cupboards for his cereal. As he stretched upwards to reach the Honey Nut Cheerios, Sulu was relieved to notice that Chekov was indeed wearing his own underwear and had not stolen Sulu’s underwear as well. That would have been just gross.

 

“Hikaruuuu, guess vhat?” “What?” Sulu pulled a chair up to the table, spoon in hand, eager to attack the freshly split grapefruit on the plate. “I’ve got a job tonight!” The young Japanese man snapped up and looked at Chekov, who was munching on his Cheerios innocently. “You can’t be serious …?” “ _Da_ , I’m serious.” “It’s been so long since your last one, though?” Chekov shrugged. “The vacation has to end sometime.”

 

“Dammit! How come I never get new jobs?” “Because you’re faaaaat.” Chekov teased Sulu, flapping his oversized sleeves at him. “Assassination has nothing to do with body weight. Besides, I’m not fat.” Sulu gave Chekov a stern look as he stabbed his grapefruit viciously with his spoon. “It’s just that not all assassins are thin and lithe like you acrobatic types. _I_ need to keep myself grounded for my type.” “Psh, no one uses katanas for azazinations anymore.” “I don’t _just_ use katanas.” “You pretty much do though.”

 

Chekov grinned and shoved another spoonful of Cheerios into his mouth as he wiggled his bare toes in excitement. The scene planted a slight chill in Sulu’s stomach. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the grapefruit he consumed or the creepy demeanor of the boy sitting across him, who squirms with joy about receiving a new assassination job. Sulu notes that he can’t exactly judge Chekov, since he himself is also an assassin, but Chekov was just too weird, man.

 

Sulu rather regretted the day he agreed to let Chekov stay with him after they had completed their training. That was three years ago. Sulu was twenty-two and Chekov a seventeen-year-old prodigy.

 

The then-teenager had showed up on Sulu’s doorstep dressed in black leather and covered in blood that wasn’t his. In his soiled fingers he held a pristine business card, which he handed to a bewildered Sulu. “My place has been compromized, Mr. Grayzon told me that you could shelter me for the time being.” Sulu took the business card, upon which the name “Spock Grayson” was immaculately printed. Spock had been a director at a training facility Sulu had attended. Although Sulu had never met Spock, he knew about Spock’s legendary reputation. It was said that he could stun a man with only one hand. That was a little terrifying. So, he let the boy in, not knowing that he would be sheltering this kid for, what, _three years and going_.

 

 _I should’ve charged more rent when I could_ , Sulu thought bitterly to himself.

 

“Hikaruuuuuu.” “What?” “Can you do some backup for me tonight?” “I thought you said that I was too fat to do your fancy assassination jobs?” “ _Nyet_ , I meant at home. I remember at the academy zat you were good wiz computers. The building I am infiltrating into has zecurity cameras. Can you hack into the zyztem and watch my zix?” Sulu was a little surprised at Chekov’s (seeming) compliment. “Yeah, sure, Pavel. But, if you keep exploiting me and my apartment, you've really gotta pay more rent.” Sulu shuddered at the recollections of the water bill last month. “I’ll give you half my commission.” Chekov said decisively. “Well, that’d be fine … thanks, Pavel.” “No, zanks, Hikaru.”

 

Chekov stood up and walked his empty cereal bowl to the sink, where he dumped it along with the grimy coffee mugs from his room. "I'm going to zleep zo I can be at my best tonight." "Don't oversleep it," Sulu warned, "And you should send me all the info you have if you want any decent backup." "I vill," Chekov mumbled as he fished his phone from the back of the jeans he stole from Sulu, and tapped at the screen whilst yawning. _How long was it since you last slept ...?_  In Sulu's memory, the light in Chekov's room was always lit. However, there was no telling whether it was because he was up doing God knows what, or if he just likes wasting electricity. Sulu's phone pinged when he got a copy of the files. _Time for work, then_. He thought, actually excited for once. He decided to take a shower and change before having a crack at whatever Chekov gave him.

  
  
Sulu hadn't noticed that the bathroom was unnaturally warm and misty after Chekov used it. He was still thinking about overriding security protocols and creating a virtual 3D map of the premises. _There would be the difficulty of figuring out how many guards were left in the building_ , Sulu thought to himself, as he turned on the faucet for hot water. _Yes ... that shouldn't be hard; hack into the security footage_. He stepped into the shower.

 

"- _shIT_! PAVEL!!"

 

Meanwhile, somewhere else in the flat, someone giggled under their covers.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a really old fic I wrote years ago, but I thought it would be fun to pick it up again and write something once in a while.
> 
> I had written this because I wanted to subvert the headcanons of Chekov as an innocent, nice young man. For all we know, he could be a raging sociopathic genius who is the worst flatmate on Earth.


End file.
